Page 25 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

But he didn’t start there. Instead he flung himself down in the middle of a sturdy love seat, set his drink down and beckoned her closer with the crook of his finger and a smile that the devil would have been proud of. The whole display was pure arrogance and pantomime.

She loved it. ‘Very smooth.’

‘The drink?’ He made a fine show of taking a sip and then dangling the crystal tumbler carelessly from finger and thumb. ‘Yes.’

‘The undressing and making yourself at home too. Why don’t you let me get your tie?’ She made a great show of leaning over to gently pull it apart and then flip his collar up and slide the tie free of his very fine shirt. Tut-tut. The poor man’s shirt buttons were positively strangling him, so she attended to them too. ‘Is this what a valet would do for you?’

‘No.’

Such a delicious rasp to his voice.

‘How fond of that gown are you?’

‘Extremely fond.’ Didn’t mean she had a burning desire to keep it on. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’d like you to sit with me.’ He put the glass down and patted his well-formed thighs. ‘On me...’

‘Ride you?’ He had the best ideas.

Crushed velvet seemed such a small price to pay for the pleasure of straddling firm thighs and putting her hands to a warm chest clothed in finest cotton. He kept his hands to himself and maybe he liked it when she tilted his head the better to brush her lips against his. She wasn’t a dominant soul, not really, but this acquiescence of his was starting to work for her in ways that went straight to her centre, pulling and twisting and teasing, such a lovely, teasing mouth he had on him, and kisses that smiled.

Where was his tie when she needed it? But the two sides of his collar would have to do as she grasped the fabric and deepened the kiss, even as he shifted to press the steel of his erection against her heated folds. He’d been a cocky teen and for good reason, long and thick, and she couldn’t help but set up a rhythm that pleased her. Tiny circles against the generous wedge of him. ‘I hope you remember how to use that,’ she murmured against his lips and brought forth another smile.

Sex could be teasing, and playful and fun before turning white hot with passion. He’d taught her that and she saw no reason to abandon such teachings now. Sex could be urgent and messy or lazy and sated. Never just the one thing, you had to direct it. Feel your way. ‘I remember you, you know. Your kisses. Your hands. Vividly,’ she murmured.

‘You should. You had me at my best. Maybe not my smoothest...’ His fingers were feeling their way beneath her panties right now, sliding into her with unerring accuracy as his moistened thumb found her nub and circled again and again. ‘But definitely at my most committed.’

There was nothing quite like a firm and knowing touch and none had ever been as knowing as his. Truth to say, she’d never allowed it. For all her hedonistic talents she’d never opened to any other man the way she had to him and for a passionate woman—which she was—it had been a very long time between drinks. She was about to embarrass herself, no question, what with his touch and his scent and the whisper of stubble on his jaw doing her in. ‘We could slow down some.’

‘Why?’

Because I’m almost already there, she could have confessed.

Because my memories of what was and what is are twining together to create an irresistible mix, she could have mentioned.

Because I’m not and never have been easy, she could have said, and it would have been the truth.

Only him.

Only this.

She closed her eyes and let him drive her higher, signalling her pleasure with drugging kisses, unable to stop her body from following where he led, but she wanted him sheathed in her when she crested.

‘Put it inside.’ Words she whispered as she fumbled to undo his belt and then the buttons—who did buttons with a member like his?—and then there was underwear and she nearly keened her relief when he halted his ministrations to lift his hips and push his clothes down and out of the way, and she knew exactly what to do with what was left.

Slowly, she positioned herself against his tip and bore down with a gasp. It was just as fulfilling as she remembered as he inched his way inside her...slowly does it...until they were a perfect fit. How? How did that fit where it did and still manage to feel so good?

‘Size Queen,’ he murmured, as if reading her thoughts, and maybe it was true.

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ And if that was a ridiculous reply he took as referencing his girth, well who was she to correct him?

‘Missed you too.’

The things they’d learned together, about each other, seemed to stand the test of time. That place at his jaw, just before his ear, that made him curse when she grazed it with her teeth and then soothed it with her tongue. The way he dived into a kiss and wouldn’t be satisfied until they were both blue for breath and gasping at the end of it. The sheer joy of slick bodies pressing, pressing against each other, rise and fall, empires could fall in that moment and there would still be no stopping them. Rise and fall. Rise and fall and climb and plead and beg.

‘I need—’

He knew exactly what she needed. Less clothing, more flesh, hands on her body and her nipple in his mouth. Just like that, yet it wasn’t the way it had been all those years ago in the hunting cabin. They had plenty of time now and somewhere along the way he’d taken a masterclass in finesse.

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